When thus he spoke: "If fond desire,
Neptune, could e'er thy bosom fire,
Œnomaus' brazen spear restrain,
And whirl me on thy swiftest car120
Victorious to th' Elean plain,
Since conquer'd in the rival war
Thirteen ill-fated suitors lie,[1]
And still the sire delays his daughter's nuptial tie.
Nor think I bear a coward soul125
Which every danger can control;
Since all the common path must tread
That leads each mortal to the dead,
Say wherefore should inglorious age
Creep slow o'er youth's inactive bloom,130
And sinking in untimely gloom,
Should man desert life's busy stage
To lie unhonour'd in the tomb?
This strife be mine: and thou, whose might
Can bless the issue of the fight,135
Oh! grant me thy propitious aid."
'Twas thus the ardent lover pray'd;
Nor sued with supplication vain
The mighty ruler of the main;
Who, mounted on his golden car,140
And steeds' unwearied wing,
Gave him to conquer in the war
The force of Pisa's king.
Obtaining thus the virgin fair,
Her valiant hero's couch to share;145
From whom six noble chieftains born,
With warlike fame their stem adorn:
Now by Alpheus' stream he lies,
Bless'd with funereal obsequies,
